Page 7 of A Wallflower Never Forgets
“He’s a smart little one,” Rachel said. “Knows where the goodies are, he does.”
“Can you ask one of the footmen to take both of them to the fenced area behind the kitchen to do their business?”
“Yes, of course, milady,” Rachel said. “I will see it done. Do you think the puppy and the kitten will get along?”
“I do.” Melanie was determined they would be friends. Her dog—still a puppy at a few months shy of one—was an offspring of the adorable dog that the Earl and Countess of Worsley had rescued years before they married. Having met the puppy’s sire, Melanie had instantly fallen in love and had asked if they should decide to breed Shep, if could she have one of the pups. As it happened, Shep Senior did sire a litter and Gavin delivered it to Scotland on one of his visits. Shep Junior, who was only a year old, helped Melanie heal through her grief over the passing of their mother. Melanie and Shep adored each other.
He was loyal, happy, and her constant companion. And having witnessed a few potentially dangerous stand-offs with feral dogs during her time in Scotland, Melanie was in awe of her puppy’s willingness to put himself in harm’s way to protect her. Just as Melanie would always look out for Shep. Even Sable, the horse she’d raised from birth, loved the puppy, and they frequently played in the horse pen. Shep Junior was a tribute to his sire who’d saved the Countess of Worsley several times.
Melanie spent hours each day training Shep in Scotland, she was certain that with kindness and patience, both animals would get along. She’d make sure of it. Right now, her only obstacle was convincing her grandmother that the kitten should stay.
“Milady, your grandmother asked me to invite you to join her and break your fast. I’ve brought your chocolate but left off the biscuits. And your water is ready behind the screen for your bath,” Rachel said, placing the tray on a table next to the bed.
“Very good. I’ll hurry, Rachel.” Melanie sat up in bed and gave a wan smile. “Goodness! I fear I slept like the dead, Rachel. I never heard you dragging in the water.”
“Several maids helped, milady. Lord DeLacey will be here soon to take you to the bookshop this morning. The Dowager Countess would like to have a word before you depart, she said.”
“He said he’d pick me up at eleven.” Oh, drat! Why did I accept? She knew better. “What time is it now?”
“Milady, it’s half past eight,” Rachel said.
Melanie took a slow, deep breath to temper the wild beating of her heart. Just the thought of Jonathan created anxiety—a reason she’d tried to forget him. Why had she not told him no? It was impossible to politely refuse his invitation now, so she pushed herself to get up and padded behind the screen. “I’ll have my bath and then my chocolate, Rachel.”
“I’ll move it by the fire, and it’ll stay warm, milady,” Rachel said. “I’ll return in twenty minutes to help you dress and do your hair. “
As Melanie leaned against the back of the tub, she reflected on the spirited dialogue between her and Jonathan. He remembered how she couldn’t resist rescuing kittens. He remembered her nickname. The one he gave her. She caught herself smiling at the memory. And then admonished herself. Her gaze fell on the basket on the floor in the room’s corner where Smoot slept, snoring. The empty small bowl beside him confirmed that the warm milk had relaxed him.
As if I might rescue another kitten. An unladylike snort escaped, and she threw her hand over her mouth. “I guess he knows me better than I realized.” Despite her nerves, about seeing him again, she had to admit she was curious over what he had been doing for four years.
Her mind wandered back to yesterday. Her driver had approached Jonathan just as he’d escorted her and Rachel to his carriage… Melanie had assured him that she would be fine taking her carriage home, but Jonathan would have none of it. Instead, he told her driver he would bring her home and sent her carriage on ahead. Maybe it was the feeling of being in his company again, the warmth of his presence, that made her heart flutter. She didn’t know—but at this moment, part of her was excited and part of her was nervous or anxious. Suddenly, she realized she looked forward to seeing him. Melanie hurried through her bath and was already dressing when Rachel returned.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, she entered the morning room and greeted her grandmother.
“Melanie, darling. I’m glad to see you’ve decided to join me,” the Dowager Countess of Rochester said as she buttered her toast. The dowager countess took her cane and tapped the seat next to her.
Melanie knew what that meant. Her grandmother was directing her to a seat. She would bet her biscuits that Grandmama knew Lord Jonathan DeLacey had walked her to the front door, she thought irritably as she filled her plate with eggs, bacon, and toast. She had thought herself lucky to find her grandmama visiting one of her friends at the time. Melanie had a feeling Rachel had been talking.
As soon as she sat down, a footman served her a second cup of chocolate for the day.
The dowager laid down her toast and, wearing a smile, turned towards Melanie. “My girl, tell me about the accident. As I understand it, you were nearly run over by a carriage, and we have Viscount Jonathan DeLacey to thank for saving your life. I had no idea he was even back in London. No wonder he was such a successful spy for the Crown. He comes and goes like a ghost. Not that I am advocating the existence of spirits. It was merely an expression. Although I have heard a few strange noises at night, I assume it’s just dear Rodney, your late grandfather, who’s come for a visit. How I miss that dear man. She took a sip of her tea. “Have you named the kitten yet?”
That was fast. “I’ve named him Smoot. I considered other names…”
“That’s perfect,” The dowager countess said. “I understand he’s black and white. Have I ever mentioned the little black and white kitten I had when I was younger?”
“No, Grandmama,” Melanie said.
She picked up her toast and took another bite, washing it down with a sip of tea. “My girl. You already have a dog. What are you going to do with a cat? Will you even have time for both?”
Melanie coughed and gulped down a mouthful of her chocolate. “I haven’t forgotten, Grandmama. I will do my best to care for them both.”
The Dowager Countess of Rochester smiled. “See that you do, my dear. However, if you need me to, I would be happy to be a surrogate for you with the kitten, particularly since it’s black and white. As I mentioned, I had one many years ago…and named it Salem.” A look of pain crossed her face. “I loved that cat. I had him for almost twenty years. Even though your grandfather always sneezed when he was around him. Bless that dear man.”
“Grandmama, I would be happy to gift Smoot to you,” Melanie said, rising from her chair to kiss the dowager countess on the cheek.
“Oh, my goodness, I don’t think?—”
